Inside the Ponyville Schoolhouse, the sunlight penetrated the row of windows on both sides of the room—sharp, harsh rays of mellow, warm shine.
The pictures on the wall bygone days' ponies, the books sitting on the shelves, the empty chairs with their desks attached to them, the mostly clean chalkboard, the apple on the teacher's table, and a closed door—though outside hoofsteps were heard, there was no one about in the playground, no playful shouts and screams of young foals having a fantastic game of catch or hide-and-seek.
At the teacher's table were two ponies: Cheerilee, the magenta Earth pony; Star Swirl the Bearded, the gray unicorn in his wizard garb of blue-yellow robe and hat—both adorned with golden bells.
Cheerilee darted her eyes here and there—sweating a little on her face. Scrunched mouth; a gulp. Then, an exhalation of breath.
Star Swirl merely raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. Scratching his beard, he said: "So, you're the teacher of Ponyville who has requested a visit from me, hm?"
A second. "Why, yes, mister Star Swirl." Calm voice—nervous hint, a bit hesitant. "I hope that what we'll do here won't be a total waste of your time, knowing that you have a plethora of important things to do right after your few-hour stay here in Ponyville, Star Swirl."
Star Swirl affected a small, subtle smile. "Well, miss...Cheerilee, I believe that as long as you don't desire of me or any of my fellow heroes the fulfillment of a preposterous proposition, then we are willing to listen to what you have to say."
"Oh, that's great!" Cheerilee said, raising her voice both in volume and in excitement as she pulled up a few large and not-so-dusty old books—then, she plopped them on the table.
The unicorn groaned at the sight of them. "I see where this is going," Star Swirl said, removing his smile. "You're one of the modern idealistic educationalists like those that I've encountered back in Canterlot weeks ago."
She gulped, dismal face—before immediately patching it up, turning it back to a professional smile. "Don't worry about my position." She pointed a hoof to herself. "I am not one of those radicals who will rabidly get on your nerves about taking pictures with you every minute!"
"Of course, you aren't," Star Swirl said, "for that is a strawpony."
Cheerilee's eyes went wide open.
"It is not their obvious behavior that irks me the most." He looked out the window, facing the playground. "It is their veiled zeal—an over-enthusiasm that they try to hide but in vain. Questions about what my whereabouts will be within the near future, questions about how I've bonded with the other Pillars before our being sent to Limbo, questions about my current lifestyle—what is ridiculous is how specific their inquiries can get, even demanding an exact schedule—but, that only touches upon the problem's surface."
He grabbed the book on top of the stack and read the title. "'The Official History of Equestria, Fortieth Edition.'" He dropped the book back with a noticeable thud.
Cheerilee eyed the action.
"It does not take a genius to know what your suggestion is." He clasped his forehooves and narrowed his eyes. "You want to ask at least one of us Pillars to appear in front of your class for a lecture on the subject of history—and, what you really want is for all six of us plus Stygian to attend such a lecture."
"But, I haven't even said—"
"Tell me, Cheerilee, do you think that is an honorable goal in the long-run?"
"Hmm." Cheerilee looked up, gazed up toward the ceiling though no ideas were to be found on the rather bland paint. A clatter of teeth—then, it was gone right there.
"I do not want to strike at your feelings," Star Swirl continued, still clasping his forehooves. "I think that you are a pony with good intentions—a teacher who is, perhaps, struggling with grabbing the attention of her students. Trust me—" He snickered "—I know that experience, having been a teacher myself before."
Cheerilee let out a sigh of relief, now resting her forehooves on the table.
"But, I also know first-hoof how our...unexpected popularity can lead to some times of realization which do lead to the discovery of some truths."
Her eyes now went here and there and then back at Star Swirl.
"We Pillars have been gawked at, interviewed, asked for, talked to without letting us say a word beyond a laypony's answer. The...common crowd—those who, as I see it, have no significant influence in spite of whatever amount of contribution they may have their society—are quite fanatic about meeting us. It makes sense and we all had to accept that—we had become legends throughout the years, so it should be no surprise to us."
Then a smirk. He gently pushed the books away, giving both of the ponies a clear view of each other—basked in the morning sun.
"I do give them one thing to their credit which raises them above even the crazy historians and, otherwise, ponies with great power and sway—they are honest about their intentions. They want to have a photograph of us with them and their family in it—it's a sentiment that is hard to shove away, and so are the rest of the sentiments that I and the rest of us feel, especially so with the foals reaching out their little hooves at us.
"The ponies with clout, however, aren't so discreet about their true motivations. While I assume that they are as good-willed as you, a number of them—not all, but more than several—view us as little more than a means to an end, a shortcut to success, a 'quick-fix' as you present-day ponies say it."
Her expression dampened—looking downward, avoiding him.
"I am not accusing you of evil," Star Swirl said. "Yes, those words are indeed severe and coarse, but I cannot couch my thoughts in fake politeness all the time—for, indeed, there are truths that are hard to hear. But, Cheerilee, do you really think that inviting even just one of us to your history class will give your students the incentive—ultimately, the encouragement—to study brilliantly and diligently?" He pointed to himself now. "I myself have seen some school textbooks and I can see why studying, to a normal foal who is accustomed to play, can have his curiosity diminished—might be too late for that. But, the solution is not in bringing us to tell our stories to them—for, what? Even if we did that, we're just other ponies who would've told you the same thing.
"And, I guess, this insanity may have jaded me a bit more—" letting go of his clasp "—but, with that, I am sorry to decline your offer."
He stood up from his chair and walked away.
Cheerilee stood up, too, though slowly—creaking her chair.
"Where are you going now, Star Swirl?" she asked, a bit of emotion now in her voice—heightened or highlighting.
"I am going to try some of the coffee here," Star Swirl said, turning his head around. "Coffee which I brought from another dimension. Hopefully, that should bring about general interest."
He smiled.
Then, he left the schoolhouse.
